Sandor Clegane was not entirely sure what he was doing here. He stared up at the palace where Queen Daenerys was; the walls were cream and there were crowds of people coming in and out. The hot Dornish sun beat down on Sandor's back and he felt slightly nauseous. Sandor was not used to the heat and he didn't understand how anyone else could bear it. Sandor stared at the citizens; content in the warm morning sun. Children were playing in the fountains and shrieks of laughter could be heard. But everywhere he went, he met the familiar stares. Sandor was aware that he stuck out even more here than back North. Sunspear was like a beautiful King's Landing
'And it doesn't stink of piss,' Sandor thought.
Sandor had left The Quiet Isles, unsure of where to go. The time he had spent there had been good, his temper had been cooled and he no longer felt like killing all the time, his leg had also wounded leaving only a tiny limp. However, Sandor had had enough of the hard labour of the fields and the peacefulness of the island. He had been seeking out work when he overheard a conversation in an inn about the Silver Queen who had sailed to Dorne and was slowly beginning a rebellion to claim the throne back as the true heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Fleetingly he had thought of joining her cause, but it was simply a passing thought. However as time had gone on, Sandor had begun to find the idea appealing. The Hound was dead and Sandor Clegane was a new man and he needed a new cause to serve. A leader he wished to serve and who wouldn't throw him into the fucking flames like that bloody imp.
Sandor sneered at the thought and pressed on into the palace.
The hall used as a waiting area to take audience with the queen was large; a green dome covered the ceiling and a great mosaic of a dragon decorated one of the walls. The whole room was buzzing with noise and Sandor shouldered past the citizens to wait in line, his head far above them. He ignored the stares, now getting used to them again, and thought on all he had heard of the queen.
She was said to be beautiful; with long silver hair and bright lilac eyes, as was the way with Targaryens. She had sailed from Meereen following the suspicious death of her husband and onslaught she had received from Yunkai. Dorne had always been fiercely loyal to the Targaryens so to Sandor it seemed an obvious place for her to go. Daenerys had been given her own palace in the heart of the city, and it was said that she would soon be wed to one of the Martells.
Suddenly the huge oak doors separating the hall and the queen's audience chambers were opened and Sandor was led through. He immediately wrinkled his nose as the smell of smoke hit him but he thought nothing of it.
The queen sat on a white bench on a raised dais surrounded by guards. She was just as stunning as the stories told, although Sandor could not help but wonder how old she was.
He saw a sudden flash of steel from beside her and recognised Ser Barristan Selmy drawing his sword. Sandor's mouth opened slightly at the sight of him. Since his dismissal from the king's guard he had gone off the radar.
"Clegane! What in seven hells are you doing here?" Ser Barristan yelled, his voice full of anger.
All around the queen the rest of her guards were unsheathing their swords and Sandor saw Jorah Mormont among them. But the queen merely sat staring at him, unfazed by the scene unfolding in front of her.
Gritting his teeth, Sandor kneeled, feeling vulnerable without armour or a weapon to protect himself.
"I have come across the land to pledge my loyalty to Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. I am Sandor Clegane and I am yours to command, your grace," He said, keeping his eyes on the guards.
Daenerys smiled at him. "It seems I am growing popular. You are not the first to cross the land to join me, I assume by his reaction that you are acquainted with Ser Barristan Selmy and you may also recognise Ser Jorah Mormont."
Ser Jorah leaned over to her. "Your grace, this man is not to be trusted. He works for the Lannisters and the Iron Throne. He goes by the name The Hound, he is a vicious killer and lacks any compassion."
Sandor stood up and curled his hands into fists, attempting to keep his temper under control, feeling the rage begin to churn inside him. "I am not The Hound any longer. I've had enough of those Lannisters," he growled.
"Khaleesi, he is lying," Mormont hissed.
Daenerys held up a hand, "Ser, you of all people should know that men can change. You have known deep regret for your past actions and yet you redeemed yourself, I see no reason that this man may not do the same."
Sandor had no clue what they were talking about, but whatever it was silenced Mormont and he turned away like a sulky child.
Daenerys turned to Barristan Selmy. "And what do you say, Ser?"
Selmy had dropped his sword but still eyed Sandor carefully. "I don't believe he poses a threat, he is a vicious killer, but he is also loyal and fearless. We should still be cautious."
Daenerys nodded and readjusted herself on the bench. "I must say, ser, those are impressive scars, how did you come about them?"
Sandor scowled. "Fire. And I'm no knight."
Daenerys smiled, a gleam appearing in her lilac eyes. "I am no stranger to fire."
Sandor eyed her warily; now he had been introduced to Daenerys, he began to feel uneasy in her presence. Why was that? She was a young girl, gorgeous but not a threat, yet Sandor felt he should keep his distance.
He watched as Selmy and Mormont exchanged small smiles and Sandor frowned deeper.
Daenerys cleared her throat. "Sandor Clegane, I welcome you to my Queensguard. I believe I shall now call my audience to a close and continue on the morrow."
The queen stood up and her guards fell into place around her. Sandor joined on the end, flinching away from Daenerys as she swept past him. Mormont came to walk beside Sandor.
"If you ever touch her," he muttered. "I will kill you like a dog in the street."
Sandor snorted. "Don't worry, you can keep your little queen, she's of no interest to me."
Jorah did not reply, but went to stand by Daenerys, a little too eagerly.
The rest of the morning Sandor spent getting his armour, slightly on the small side, and being informed of his duties as a member of the Queensguard, though he knew many of them already. In the afternoon, the queen and her guards did a patrol of the city, accompanied by her blood riders. Daenerys felt it important that the people see her as someone to look up to and love rather than fear. Sandor recalled the riot in King's Landing and thought on how different it was here in Dorne. Everywhere they went, the people would reach up and touch Daenerys, whispering words of praise and love. Daenerys smiled down at them like a mother to her children, returning their gestures gracefully.
During the middle of the day, the sun was at its hottest and Sandor felt sweat gathering under his neck. He grimaced, wondering if he would ever get used to the sweltering temperatures. The sound of the market filled the air and the smell of cinnamon and other spices wafted past as the citizens sold their wares, occasionally offering presents to Daenerys.
Ser Barristan rode beside Sandor, watching Daenerys with a smile on his face.
"A natural isn't she," the old knight said.
"She's like no ruler I've ever seen," Sandor admitted.
"I believe she will make an excellent queen. Leaders need to be fierce and brave, yet kind as well. Daenerys is like her brother, Rhaegar, in that regard," Ser Barristan continued. "Though it was not always this easy."
Sandor frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Her grace received a great deal of trouble back in Meereen, I believe the free cities were simply not ready to free their slaves. They believed Daenerys was cruel and hard, taking away a huge source of their income, but she was simply doing what she thought was right. A leader's hands are never clean and Daenerys learnt that a very long time ago. Yet here, in Dorne, she is seen as a saviour, a beacon of hope following The Red Viper's death."
Sandor's expression clouded over. "Gregor's work."
Barristan nodded. "Your brother..."
"I'm nothing like my brother," Sandor growled.
Barristan smiled slightly. "I can see that. I believe you will do well serving her grace."
Sandor closed his eyes for a moment, pushing the rage down as he acknowledged once more that he would never have the chance to feel Gregor's life slip through his fingers as Sandor had wished for so long.
As they rode through the narrow streets of Sunspear, Sandor felt a sudden flicker of fear at the smell of fire.
"That smell," He murmured.
"The dog's nose is still sharp I see," Ser Jorah smirked.
Daenerys looked around, searching for the source. They saw it as they entered a small square, one of the houses was a blaze, the fire building higher and higher. Sandor's horse shied away, sensing his fear. The guards dismounted.
"Stay back, Khaleesi!" Mormont shouted as he ran to the fountain that stood in the centre of the square, helping the other citizens carry water to the blaze.
Sandor stayed rooted to the spot, watching the flames with terror as they seemed to reach out towards him, he could feel the heat on his face.
A woman and a child were stood by the house being held back by two men as they cried out, reaching up towards the house.
Daenerys dismounted and Sandor followed, making sure to keep clear of the fire.
"What's going on?" Daenerys asked her guards as she looked from the house to the mother.
Ser Barristan grimaced. "It seems there is still a child inside."
Sandor watched as Daenerys slowly turned towards Ser Jorah, a determined look on her face.
Mormont's eyes widened. "No, Khaleesi, no. It's too dangerous-"
But he was cut short as Daenerys dashed forward without so much as a glance backwards and hurled herself into the flames.
Sandor's mouth dropped open and he made to run after her, but the flames were too much. The heat pouring off them, and Sandor heard the familiar screams in his mind, drowning out his thoughts. He gritted his teeth and looked at the others.
"Is that girl insane?" Sandor roared.
Ser Barristan began to walk towards the house, but Ser Jorah put his arm out, stopping him.
"We have to go after her! The fate of Westeros lies with her!" Barristan yelled.
Her blood riders shook their heads. "Khaleesi will return."
"Are you mad?" Sandor hissed. "No man could ever survive those flames."
Mormont looked desperately into the flames, an expression of deep pain on his face. "Just wait."
"Wait?" Ser Barristan cried. "That is our queen, we must help her!"
"How?" Sandor snarled. "I get she's important but I am not going anywhere near those fucking flames."
Ser Barristan opened his mouth to argue, but instead tightened his jaw and kept his eyes fixed on the flames. It seemed to go on for hours as the men waited to see if Daenerys would return.
"Seven hells," Sandor muttered. "Does that girl have a death wish?"
He thought of the way her silver hair had streamed behind her as she jumped into the flames, so determined, not relying on anyone else, simply on her instincts. But bravery doesn't help when you're dead.
There was a sudden crash from inside the building and they watched in horror as part of the roof caved in.
"Blood of my blood!" cried her blood rider, Jhogo.
Suddenly out of the flames, she appeared. Her dress burnt away, barely covering her naked body, flames dancing in her hair, her expression with that same determined look. In her arms she clutched a small boy to her chest protectively, like a mother.
She jumped gracefully out of the building and went to the woman and handed her the child. The woman fell to the ground with relief, cradling her child, thanking Daenerys over and over.
Sandor could not keep his eyes off the girl. She was completely unharmed.
Sensing his gaze, Daenerys came over to him. "Surprised?"
Mormont smiled with relief, as did her blood riders, obviously aware of how her immunity to the flames. Ser Barristan, however, seemed as shocked as Sandor.
"I have... I have never heard of this before," he said, running a hand over his head. "The Targaryens were more tolerant of fire, yes, but immune..."
Sandor gaped at her. "You- you just- you're not hurt?"
Daenerys shook her head. "The fire cannot touch me. I feel the heat, I feel it inside me, like a source of power. It cannot harm me," she sighed down at her ruined dress and short, burnt hair. "Though the same cannot be said for my clothes."
Wordlessly, Sandor detached his cloak and wrapped it round the queen's body.
He froze.
His mind was suddenly dragged back to a moment far away, as he had wrapped his cloak around a girl with auburn hair as she sat sobbing on the floor.
Sandor felt lost in the memory for some time, until Daenerys's voice dragged him to the present.
"Are you alright?" she asked, sensing his sudden change.
Sandor nodded, numbly and backed away slightly, pushing the memory away. It was a long time ago.
It was late at night and Sandor lay on his bed in the Queensguard quarters, unable to sleep. Recalling the memory of the little bird after so many years was like opening the flood gates; he could not stop the images of the girl as she danced through his mind, with her frightened eyes and well learnt courtesies. Sandor found himself wondering where she was and whether she was happy now. Thinking of her seemed to immobilise his body, as though he were incapable of anything else other than recalling her face and voice.
There came the sound of footsteps by the door and Sandor turned to see Ser Barristan looking at him.
"Her Grace wishes to see you," he said.
Sandor frowned at the late hour but nodded and set about getting changed.
Once he was done, Sandor walked through the corridors of the palace towards the queen's chambers, grateful for the cool temperature. Sandor hesitated by her door, still feeling slightly wary of Daenerys, though still unsure of the reason. He nodded at The Unsullied who guarded the door wand opened it for him.
"Your Grace?" Sandor called, uncertainly.
"Come in," Daenerys sang back.
Sandor entered the room and took in the tranquillity of her room, simplistic yet elegant. He saw Daenerys sat on a cushion in the middle of the room, surrounded by three dragons.
"Fucking hell!" Sandor jumped back, his hand reaching for the hilt of the sword.
At the anger and fear in his voice, the dragons raised their heads suddenly and hissed at him. They were definitely real. The ferocious beasts, capable of killing thousands of people and burning cities to ashes, were curled up around Daenerys like sleeping babes.
"What are those things doing here?" Sandor hissed.
Daenerys cocked her head to one side. "I assumed you knew."
"What, that dragons had returned? No, I missed that raven," He snapped, backing against the wall.
The black one stared at Sandor and coughed a small burst of flames in his direction which Sandor shrunk back from.
"Now now, children, you're scaring our guest," Daenerys said, stroking their scales.
Sandor stared at her, what the hell was this girl?
With another hiss at Sandor, the three of them slunk away, disappearing into an adjoined room, curtained off from the queen's.
"You want to explain all that?" Sandor said, bewildered.
Daenerys sighed and crossed the room to a little pond by the window. She sat down on its edge and dangled her legs in the turquoise water. "It's a long story."
"No kidding," Sandor muttered.
Daenerys smiled at him. "Come, sit."
Sandor hesitated, still feeling wary of her, but he went over all the same, sitting on the other side of the pond. Daenerys looked out of the window, staring up at the dark sky.
Sandor took the opportunity to study the girl more closely. Her hair had been burnt away by the fire leaving it short, but retaining its silver glow. Her skin was pale and her eyes were a soft lilac, shining in the light. She suddenly seemed wiser beyond her years as she looked into the distance. This was a girl who had known pain and suffering, Sandor knew.
"Why did you do that today?" He asked, curious.
Daenerys looked back at him. "These people are my children and I wanted to protect them."
"You could have been killed," he replied in a low voice.
"The fire is a part of me," Daenerys said, her voice calm. "Just as it is for you."
Sandor glared at her. "What do you mean?"
"Fear is a part of us just as everything else is," she replied.
"I'm not afraid of fire," Sandor snarled.
Daenerys smiled. "Have it your way."
An awkward silence ruled over the two of them for some time and Sandor scratched his head, feeling uncomfortable.
"Is it the same for all Targaryens?" He asked.
"No, my brother was vulnerable to heat... He was weak and cruel and I am better off without him," Daenerys said in a cool voice, but there was a hint of sadness there as well.
Sandor wondered how this girl had managed to survive so far, with nobody there to help her, and now she was to become Queen of The Seven Kingdoms. Sandor felt that in that moment he was seeing nothing but a lonely little girl and that thought made his heart pang, recalling another girl who sung the same song.
"So you see, I have no family left, but I am mother to thousands," Daenerys smiled radiantly.
Sandor stared at her as his thoughts once again danced to the girl with the auburn hair, as she sung to him, her voice sweet yet full of fear. She and Daenerys were very alike and the thought scared Sandor.
Daenerys raised an eyebrow at him. "What's the matter?"
"I'm fine," Sandor growled, looking away. But then he thought he had scared her, like he used to scare the little bird and he looked back slightly, anxious. However Daenerys was simply looking at him, her head on one side.
"It's just," Sandor gazed down at the pool, his reflection staring back. "You remind me of someone."
Daenerys's look softened. "What was her name?"
Sandor remained silent, afraid to open the gates of those memories open once more. Afraid that her bright blue eyes and auburn hair would haunt him for the rest of his days.
"Sansa," he murmured.
"What was she like?" Daenerys asked gently.
"She was," Sandor began. "She was naive, gods, she was naive," he snorted. "She was all sweetness and innocence, always dreaming of knights in shining armour, she didn't know any better. At least in the beginning. She was afraid of me of course," he laughed. "But sometimes..." Sandor trailed off, remembering how Sansa had held his cheek so gently that night in her chambers.
Daenerys smiled. "She sounds like a sweet girl."
Sandor said nothing, not wanting to talk about her anymore.
A ghost of the past, that was all.
However the ghost followed Sandor back to his room and danced through his dreams until he eventually woke up some hours later, wide awake, and stared at the ceiling. He found himself wondering whether the little bird was still asleep. Sandor laughed. Probably dreaming of her knights.
But then again, Sandor thought, Daenerys and Sansa were probably of the same age and Daenerys had probably dreamed of such things when she was younger, yet now she held the presence of a full grown woman, wise and level headed with only glimpses of the little girl she had once been. With that thought, Sandor wondered whether Sansa had changed much. Sandor closed his eyes as he tried to imagine what his little bird would be like now, what she would look. He imagined things he had never seen; her smiling up at him, waking up beside him and kissing him as he took her in his arms.
Sansa continued to flutter through his dreams until dawn and the song of birds ushered in a new morning.